


fall on your knees (oh hear the angels’ voices)

by elareine



Category: Batman - All Media Types
Genre: 5+1 Things, Cock Warming, Communication Issues, Developing Relationship, Gags, Jason/OMC (briefly), Light Dom/sub, M/M, Multiple Orgasms, Oral Fixation, Oral Sex, Overstimulation, Porn with Feelings, Praise Kink, Public Sex, Self-Esteem Issues, Sex Toys, Sub Jason Todd, Unprotected Sex, Unreliable Narrator, teenage masturbation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-27
Updated: 2020-12-27
Packaged: 2021-03-10 21:15:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,800
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28053765
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elareine/pseuds/elareine
Summary: That was the actual fucked-up thing. Neither of them knew how to let go, how to let the other be, and Jason had no idea what to do about it anymore. Bruce made him angry like no other, made him sad, made his blood boil, his rage hot and his body burning up—Maybe for once, he shouldlet it."I'm done with talking." He saw Bruce tense, saw his hand go to his belt, and ignored the tingling at his neck. "Let's try something different, old man.""Different how—"Slowly, dramatically, Jason sank down on his knees.(Five times Jason had his mouth filled and the one time Bruce paid him back.)
Relationships: Jason Todd/Bruce Wayne
Comments: 6
Kudos: 133
Collections: Batfam Kinkmas Exchange 2020





	fall on your knees (oh hear the angels’ voices)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [kuro49](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kuro49/gifts).



> Dear kuro49, I hope I hit the right note with this. 
> 
> Folks, please heed the tags and keep in mind that this fic really isn’t about being realistic.

Okay, so. Jason had no idea what the fuck he was doing. Luckily, that had never stopped him before. 

It was something men did, right? And Jason was starting to think that yeah—he was pretty gay. Living around people walking around in spandex was sure helpful in figuring out who you're attracted to. So if the time came that he could do this for real, he wanted to be prepared. To be good. 

Also, it would be hot.

Dick had been experimenting with batons, lately. Sure, he was running electricity through them and calling them 'escrima sticks,' but… that's what they were. A baton that just happened to be the perfect item to practice blowjobs on. 

Well, no, a toy would be better. However, how the fuck would Jason pay for it? B had given him his credit card, sure, but the purchase would be listed on the bill. Even if he managed to pay in cash, this wasn't a household to hide things in. 

Stealing, sadly, was right out. Jason wasn't gonna risk his place here for something so stupid.

So Jason was kneeling on his bed, naked and holding up an escrima stick (battery removed) with a gaging hand. With communal showers and fancy suit pants being what they were, Jason thought he had enough of a basis to judge that it was roughly the same size as—Nope. Not going there. Robin did not notice Batman's dick in the shower. No way. 

(Though sometimes, he wondered… There had been a lot of rumors about Batman and Robin, once upon a time. ) 

He carefully wrapped his lips around the tip and gave a tentative suck. 

…hmm. Okay. That did exactly nothing for him. The stick tasted weird—a bit metallic, a bit plastic-y, kinda bitter. It was cold against his teeth. Jason pulled it back and tried to keep his teeth covered and away from the stick. That was what you were supposed to do during a real blowjob, right?' No teeth without asking.' 

The taste was definitely something to get used to. The material felt weird, too, smooth and inhuman. 

That was when Jason noticed that his tongue was already playing with the object in his mouth. Huh. He had been totally focused on the sensation in a way he rarely, if ever, was. Maybe he was onto something here. 

He carefully pushed the stick back in and tried to focus on his breathing. The stick wasn't precisely blocking his airways yet, but it was in the way. In, our, through his nose. Okay. That worked. 

The metal was warming up, now. Jason tried sucking again, and this time, with the baton lodged deeper in his throat, the sensation was amazing. 

Slowly, he pulled the stick out, just to push it in again right away. It felt clumsy; he couldn't get the angle right, and yet—and yet. 

Jason did it again, and again, hitting resistance when the third push went deeper than before and whimpering. It wasn't a sound of pain. The next push went even further. 

What would a real cock feel like? 

He tried to imagine a generic person above him—one of the countless men who had tried to proposition him on the streets, maybe, or another hero, someone kind, treating him well and teaching him what to do—but it was pointless. Jason's world revolved around only one person, and there was no one else to take his place. 

It was pathetic. Jason knew— _knew_ —with a bone-deep certainty that Bruce would never do this with him. The man was far too honorable for that. The idea was probably disgusting to him. As it should be. Jason was disgusting for thinking about it. 

But he wanted.

God, how he wanted. 

His hand was moving faster, the baton fucking in and out of his throat, a little deeper each time. With the other, he was blindly reaching out, searching with his hand until he could grab one of his pillows and pull it close. 

His dick slid against the soft material, fabric pushing his balls, and Jason whimpered. Fuck, yeah, that felt good. He was beyond shame at humping a pillow now, just pushing forward blindly in his pursuit of pleasure. His hand was finding a nice rhythm, too, deep and steady, just like someone fucking his throat. 

Jason closed his eyes and let himself imagine. 

Bruce was towering over him, larger than he ever was in life. And he would be large _everywhere_. If the escrima stick was already hurting the back of Jason's throat, Bruce's dick would be so much worse. Jason moaned at the thought, at the way his throat vibrated around the stick—Bruce would like that. 

He'd groan, pull Jason closer with those big hands. Jason could just feel them running through his hair. He wanted to pull the strands himself, try to get closer to the fantasy, but he needed to hold the pillow against him with one hand, and the other was busy moving the stick. 

Bruce would like his dedication. He always praised Jason's focus. That had to translate to the bedroom, right? He'd challenge Jason—make him take his cock, swallow around it, please him the best he knew how—and then he'd reward Jason for a job well done. 

Maybe he'd even call Jason his good boy. 

Fuck. Jason couldn't—he couldn't—his hips rolled forward, rutting against the pillow, and it felt so good, like nothing he had ever felt before, better even than the first time he'd fucked himself with his fingers, better than jerking off—his mouth around Bruce's cock, Bruce's hands in his hair, and Jason was coming, coming, _coming_. His hips stuttered against the pillow, spilling white all over it. It was increasingly difficult not to choke on the stick in his mouth, and Jason was gasping around it, but he didn't remove it until he absolutely had to, until the last wave of pleasure had crested and weaned. 

Maybe years later, he would have words for what happened to him then. Right now, all he knew was that he was floating, high on adrenaline and pleasure and freedom, and then, all of a sudden, he felt incredibly awkward. 

Awareness flooded in like a particularly nasty itch. He was sitting on his bed, jizz cooling all over his pillow and his dick, and his mouth was still around his brother's weapon. 

Worse. He'd just gotten off to that and thinking about his foster father. 

Jason pulled the stick out of his mouth—shivering one last time at the way it dragged over his lower lip—and flung it off the bed. After a second's thought, the pillow followed. He could clean that up later; for now, all he wanted to do was plop down on the bed, so he did. Curling up, he pulled the blanket over himself, shivering. 

Like. This wasn't a normal thing, right? 

What he _should_ have gotten off to was something like—getting his own dick sucked. Hell, even fantasizing about Dick (heh) would've been more acceptable than this. Instead, he'd gone for _Bruce_ , for _kneeling_.

Jason had never once in his life submitted to anyone like he did in his fantasy today, and he never wanted to. 

And still, he couldn't stop thinking about it. Not the sex part—though that had been incredibly hot, and Jason already knew that today hadn't been the last time. He would find something to fill his mouth again, no matter what he was telling himself tonight. 

No. Haunting his thoughts was Bruce. Holding him. Telling Jason how well he did. Rewarding him with gentle praise and soft kisses. 

Loving him. 

Jason rolled over and pressed his face into the mattress. That would never happen. He should stop these thoughts while he still could. 

* * *

If he hadn't spent so much of his first life waiting for Bruce's gaze on him—craving it, battling for it, going to the end of the Earth for it—Jason would never have known that the Batman was following him. 

Following _him_. Jason, not the Red Hood. Oh, sure, spying on him in costume was fair game; Jason acknowledged that. He personally didn't think Red Hood warranted being a priority when the Joker was still out there, but that was Bruce's call. If he thought the Batman's resources were best employed keeping track of this washed-up ex-Robin, fine. 

That wasn't what was happening right now. No, Jason was out, being a good little boy, pretending he was still a civilian like the rest of them. (As if he had any identity left beside the one he forged from blood and anger. As if nothing had been stolen from him.)

He bought dinner at the shitty Chinese place, and Bruce was watching. He checked in with the women at Ford's and 32nd, and Bruce was watching. Jason walked through the park, ate his food, and still Bruce was watching. 

The anger was never far from his mind these days. This, though, was enough to bring it to a boil tonight. Fucking _fine_. Bruce wanted to follow him? Jason would give him something to _watch_. 

He considered his own outfit. It was nothing special—dark pants, a t-shirt, his leather jacket, boots. Jason thought it would do for his purpose and was proven right when the bouncer at The Blue Cat let him in without a second thought. Thank God for gay aesthetics. 

This was his second time visiting the club, the first having been when he was technically waaay too young to set foot in here. All the public sex had left quite the impression on his young mind, though. The place was famous for it. 

Bruce would know exactly what he was in for if he followed Jason inside. 

The dance floor was teeming. Jason took a moment to case the place before heading out to the dance floor. 

The man Jason picked was nothing like Bruce. Oh, he had the same built: just a little taller than Jason, broader, rooted into the earth. His hair was dark and greying, his eyes blue. But he looked at Jason like he was amazed—like he couldn't believe someone like Jason was coming up to him, chose him—and Bruce never was, so the comparison was moot. 

Jason did not ask the man's name. He did not want to know. What was important was that they were dancing, and that he would feel Bruce's eyes on him again. 

"What's a young thing like you doing in a place like this?" the man asked, want in his eyes. It was heady.

"Looking for you," Jason grinned back. It was true, in a way. 

Big hands settled on Jason's hips, and Jason didn't bother to hide the twitch he gave at that; the urge to grind against the other man's thighs was there, so he gave into it. 

"Eager," the man chuckled. 

"Hmm," Jason hummed, barely audible over the music. A new visitor had entered the club. Bruce Wayne did not look like Bruce Wayne tonight (couldn't, not here), but Jason would recognize him anywhere. 

Jason saw him tense, saw his fists clench, and gave his partner his most mischievous grin. "I think I need the restroom. Care to join?" 

"Hell yeah." 

Jason wrapped a hand around his partner's wrist and led him away. The toilets were just about what he expected: dirty, brightly lit, deserted. 

He deliberately left the stall door open behind them. A quick glance up showed him that the other man didn't mind—the opposite, really, judging from the smirk on his face. "Oh, it's like that, huh?" 

"Yeah." Jason sank down on his knees, reaching out for the other's pants. "You mind?" 

"Don't hold back on my behalf, gorgeous," was the amused reply. So Jason didn't. 

Making quick work of the pants and underwear, he got his first look at his treat for the night. Not bad. Not as thick as Jason would've thought, but he had a nice length to him, enough to make Jason choke if he wanted to. 

Jason leaned forward and sucked the head into his mouth. 

Fuck, the taste. This wasn't his first time doing this; it still felt so good every time, the saltiness, the musk, the smell… the knowledge of what he was doing. The women he had grown up with would have his head for not making the dude put on a condom. Jason didn't care—he wanted Bruce to see that he didn't. 

Beside. He had a goal here. 

Trying to focus, he increased the suction, taking the cock deeper into his mouth. He couldn't quite fit all of it (it _was_ rather long, and he didn't feel like choking right now; that would be distinctly unsexy to watch), but his right hand covered what his mouth couldn't, and he must've been doing something right, because his partner's hand went to Jason's head, tangling in his hair. He didn't pull or anything, just clung on. Jason wasn't sure if he was disappointed or glad. 

"Damn, kid, you really want it, huh?" the man panted. 

As if in reply, Jason's left hand went up to gently fondle the guy's balls. There was an appreciative groan from above him, and Jason tried not to grin. Hell yeah, he still had it. 

Behind them, the door opened. 

The man above Jason was startled. His hand froze, then lessened its pressure, as if to give Jason the chance to pull away. Jason, though, recognized the footsteps, and he had no intention of stopping. 

_Look at me._

There it was again. The heaviness. That gaze. 

Jason closed his eyes and moaned. God, he must be looking a mess, kneeling in a dirty club bathroom, sucking the cock of a stranger like he was paid for it—even worse, he _wasn't_ , he just wanted—

Yes. This was what he'd wanted Bruce to see. 

_You always knew this is what I am._

He sucked, and he swallowed, and he waited. His tongue got in on the action, too, and still—nothing happened. 

Bruce didn't leave. 

For a moment, Jason didn't know what to do next. He'd expected disgust. Rejection. At best, maybe some protective rage, Bruce stepping in and demanding what Jason thought he was doing. 

However, none of that happened. Just the man who had once been his father, watching Jason get off another man. 

(Maybe he should've expected this. Neither of them could ever back down. That was the whole problem.)

Jason pulled back and began jerking his partner off with a purpose, quick little flicks meant to finish the job; his face was turned up, mouth hanging open in clear invitation even as Jason's mind was utterly focused on Bruce.

Bruce, who still hadn't made a single sound.

_Look at me. **Look at me**_ **.**

The man above Jason groaned. "Fuck—" and then he was coming, three long spurts across Jason's face. 

Jason jerked him through it; used the moment to get his own breathing under control. His own dick was hard, an insistent pulse against his leg, but he refused to pay any attention. It wasn't about that. 

He turned around. Showed Bruce his face, covered in another man's cum. 

Bruce's face was a perfect mask as he turned away and left. 

"Let me return the favor?" the man asked. 

Jason shook his head without looking at him. "I'm good." 

He wasn't. He wasn't sure why, though. This was exactly what he'd wanted, right? For Bruce to leave him alone. 

Right? 

* * *

The arguments were a step forward. 

At least it wasn't Jason standing there, giving Bruce a choice, _protect me, choose me, it's him or me and I need to know you'll keep me safe_ —wasn't Bruce having to choose between his city, his life's mission and beliefs, and the son he would've once given everything to have back. 

It was just the two of them, crossing paths every other night, trading barbs that were equal parts sharp and bitter. 

"I didn't kill anyone," Jason said bluntly, "even though they deserved it. If they come back, that is on you, _Dark Knight_." 

Bruce did the thing where he looked even more constipated at Jason technically doing what Bruce wanted, but not in the correct way. (Or at least that was what Jason assumed was happening under the cowl. He himself was only wearing the domino, but Bruce hadn't done him that favor.) 

"It's not, and you know that." Ah, the reasonable voice. Would work better if Bruce wasn't shaking with barely suppressed violence.

To be fair (which Jason rarely felt like being), he had thrown the first punch when Batman attempted to interfere. They hadn't seen each other in two weeks, after all. Jason had almost missed this, fucked-up as it was. He knew Bruce did, too. 

That was the actual fucked-up thing. Neither of them knew how to let go, how to let the other be, and Jason had no idea what to do about it anymore. Bruce made him angry like no other, made him sad, made his blood boil, his rage hot and his body burning up—

Maybe for once, he should _let it_. 

"I'm done with talking." He saw Bruce tense, saw his hand go to his belt, and ignored the tingling at his neck. "Let's try something different, old man." 

"Different how—"

Slowly, dramatically, Jason sank down on his knees. 

Hah. That actually turned Bruce speechless. 

Jason tilted his head up and looked at his sometime-father. "Stop me now if you don't want this." He wasn't that kind of asshole, after all. "You know I'm good, though." 

They had never talked about that night at the club, but Jason could see that Bruce remembered it. There was a flinch, just a little, a tic to the jaw. Then the man settled above him, turning as still as granite. 

Jason gave him another ten seconds.

Bruce didn't move. 

"I'm gonna blow your world," Jason promised—Bruce or himself, he wasn't quite sure. Didn't matter. His hands were opening Bruce's pants, pulling his cup to the side hard enough that one of the strings snapped, and Bruce was _letting_ him. 

Considering everything that happened between them, seeing Bruce's dick for the first time shouldn't have been such a grand occasion, but it was. Jason silently congratulated his teenage self on getting the size estimation just about right. He wasn't ever gonna call a dick pretty, but this one was undoubtedly on the nicer side. 

Even better? It was hardening in his hand. Jason gave it a few jerks, grinning when it filled with more blood, and then he leaned forward and suckled at the head. 

The taste wasn't especially strong; it was overpowered by the smell of leather and sweat from the uniform. Jason still acted like it was his favorite candy, sucking enthusiastically and groaning. 

Bruce didn't make a sound. He wasn't even breathing faster. Jason wanted—needed _something_. Some kind of reaction. Some acknowledgment that he wasn't in this all by himself. 

He pulled back and went for the kill. "Is this what you wanted when I was a kid?" 

And for the first time in months, he saw Bruce pull back in shock. 

Well, that answered that question then. Was that disappointing or a relief? Reassuring to know that Batman wasn't actually into the kids he quasi-adopted (contrary to many leotard-fuelled rumors), but it did make Jason's teenage crush infinitely more pathetic. 

At least it settled one point. There was no way Bruce was attracted to today-Jason. At least he'd _liked_ teenage-Jason. Now Jason was but a mimicry of that boy, torn apart and forged together again at the wrong temperature. His body, his mind, whatever passed as his heart… there was nothing left for Bruce to be attracted to. 

Too bad Bruce was still hard for him. Perhaps it was a purely physical reaction, or maybe Bruce was stubborn enough to get an erection through the sheer power of wanting to prove a point. Jason wouldn't put it past him, honestly. 

It didn't matter. Bruce was clearly consenting, even if he seemed intent on ignoring Jason's question: "I thought you were done talking?" 

The challenge was evident in his voice, and Jason's flames only burned brighter. He'd show Bruce. 

With his smirk firmly intact, Jason lowered his lips back to Bruce's cock, brushing a kiss over the tip. Precum was slowly leaking from it, so he flicked his tongue out, trying to taste it. And then again because it got Bruce to make a sound, finally, as if the visual was too much even for him. 

Encouraged, Jason leaned forward, taking Bruce's cock fully into his mouth again. This time, he let him slide in deeper, contracting his throat around it. There was no sound from above, just a tiny movement of Bruce's hips. 

His thumb pressed into the vein running through Bruce's thigh—and there it was, Bruce's pulse, fast and unsteady. Jason concentrated on that; let it be the rhythm of his movements, the drumbeat to his tongue's movements. 

The texture was interesting: silky smooth, with enough bumps to give him something to press against, play with. Jason got lost in playing with the ridge under the head for a long moment. Not that you could call it a ridge, exactly, but Jason didn't make his living writing smutty novels, okay, he had no idea how to describe the minute details of the dick in his mouth, only that he liked tracing that place with his tongue. 

Bruce's hand was in his hair. Jason wasn't sure when it had moved there; his head was as if in a daze, wrapped in cotton and protected from the outside world. All he could focus on was Bruce, in his mouth, _finally_. 

When he pressed his head forward, tried to take Bruce's cock deeper, it was on instinct. He wanted more, wanted all of it. Have Bruce fuck his throat, take him—

Jason pulled back, abruptly scared to death. 

_What was he thinking?_

He jumped to his feet and turned around, intent on getting out of here. This wasn't good. This was dangerous. 

As he moved, Jason tried to clear his head. _Think rationally._ It still felt like he was dazed, but he thought that he could get out of this. Bruce would feel ashamed of this, right? He'd run just as soon as he'd realize what he'd done. What they had done. Oh, God, Jason had—he'd gone down on his knees, for Bruce, and he'd—

Bruce's hand closed around his wrist. 

Fuck. Where had he come from? He'd just been behind Jason—

"Jay. Let's talk." Bruce took the cowl off, and his eyes were wide and almost as scared as Jason's. "Please." 

* * *

"You want this, don't you?" 

Jason tried to look down, cheeks burning. Bruce did not let him. His grip on Jason's chin was firm, his voice unrelenting as he asked: "Don't you?" 

"I do." Jason was pleased when the words came out strong, defiant. 

"Remember your safewords?" 

"Red for stop, yellow for pause." Jason rolled his eyes. "It's not exactly rocket science, B." 

"And if you can't speak?" 

"Two taps for pause, three for stop." 

Bruce looked at him, and Jason tried not to squirm. "I want this," he said again, softer this time, hoping it would be enough. Bruce hadn't made him beg yet. 

Evidently, it was. Bruce nodded. "Okay." 

He moved back on the bed until he was propped up by the headboard, naked and utterly confident. Then he spread his legs wide and motioned between them. "Come here?" 

Jason hesitated briefly, then crawled forward. The humiliating position was worth it for the way Bruce's eyes darkened, how he couldn't seem to look away from Jason. 

All he said was: "Sit back on your heels." 

Jason did, somehow managing not to flinch when the toy inside him shifted. It was nothing big, though, and had a broad but flat base, so it was okay. _You can do this._

Bruce's hand went to his shoulders and pressed down. It was not enough to force Jason to do anything—never would be—and Jason couldn't help tensing up. Following directions didn't come naturally, no matter how… relaxing it turned out to be for him. There was always that moment where his brain screamed, _Are you really gonna let him do this?_

Bruce patiently waited him out, and then he pressed down again. This time, Jason followed. His weight shifted back further, and then he was lying half-curled up between Bruce's legs. 

He hadn't known he could still feel this small. 

Jason pressed his face into Bruce's thigh, taking comfort in the familiar smell of his skin. Bruce didn't comment, just let him take whatever time he needed. 

Eventually, though, Jason's own impatience got the better of him. He was here for Bruce's dick, after all, and he intended to have his fill. Jason curled a hand around the base of it, at first; let himself suckle the head like a treat, then map the contours with his tongue, then back to sucking again. 

Finally, he replaced his hand with his mouth, gripping the sheets instead as he focused on swallowing without choking. 

By now, this too was familiar: the taste and feel of Bruce, the pleasure Jason took from this, the way his own dick leaked into the sheets. He closed his eyes and allowed himself to lose himself in it, concentrating on nothing but the cock in his mouth. 

Bruce's hips started a slow rhythm, pushing just that little bit deeper, fucking Jason's throat in small, controlled movements. God, he fucking loved it. He was choking, desperately breathing through his mouth, and still whimpering because he loved it. 

So of course Bruce had to up the ante. Jason didn't notice him reaching for the remote, didn't see his smile, but he felt the toy in his ass start to move, and it was all he could do not to wail. 

The toy had looked so small in Bruce's hand. Dainty and a pretty pink, not nearly as intimidating as Bruce's cock. Jason needed barely any prep, and then it had felt nice, but not like mind-blowing. Again, unlike Bruce's cock. 

(The first time they had fucked had been months after that time Jason tried to blow Bruce. Months after they _talked_ , after the dam broke, and they'd decided that yes, they were fucked-up, so they might as well try. It had been tender, Bruce visibly intent on keeping all the hurt away from them for once, and Jason responding in kind.

Jason knew that the only reason he wasn't calling it 'making love,' even in his head, was because he was still afraid of what that meant.) 

He should've guessed Bruce never made it that simple for him. Fuck. The vibrations were slow, steady pulses, but they pressed against precisely the right spot, teasing and overwhelming at once. 

Jason whined around the cock in his mouth, hips shifting forward and back fruitlessly. 

Bruce's hand slid into his hair, and he stilled. Should he not have done that? Bruce had never restricted his pleasure, but... 

"Keep going," Bruce murmured. "Make yourself feel good. You deserve it, my boy." 

Jason moaned, hips starting to move without his input because he could, because Bruce said he should, that he was good, that he deserved it. He tried to show his gratefulness by swallowing Bruce deeper, spurred on by Bruce's hand in his hair, the way he ran his fingers through it, the way every touch told Jason that he was wanted, that he was needed—

Bruce gripped Jason's hair tighter and pulled.

Jason moaned, he couldn't help it, and then he was choking and coming against the bed—his cock pulsing against the sheet and he was desperately humping, now, trying to get more of that sensation, mind going white. And all the while, Bruce kept his tight grip on Jason's hair, every movement of his fingers drawing out another spasm of pleasure. 

He didn't let up. Jason's head was barely beginning to clear when Bruce started to fuck his mouth again, in earnest now. Every time Bruce's hips came up, he pulled Jason down, forcing his cock to go deep. Jason did his best—he wanted to make Bruce feel as amazing as he did, wanted to be good—but he could do nothing but hang on, clutching the bedsheets and trying not to cry. 

It seemed to be enough. Bruce moaned, holding Jason close, not letting him breathe as he came in his mouth, too deep for Jason to taste it. Jason tried to moan, but all that came out was a gurgled sound as if he was drowning and desperate for more water. 

After a long moment, Bruce carefully guided Jason back. Jason sucked in a deep breath, then another, torn between relief and disappointment. When his head cleared enough to look up once again, Bruce's eyes were watching his face. Jason didn't think they had looked away once since they had sat down on the bed. 

"Pretty," Bruce stated. "Did you swallow everything?" His thumb pressed against Jason's jaw, and Jason obediently opened his mouth wider, letting Bruce see. He was a mess—tears in his eyes, the taste of cum still on his tongue, lips swollen and bruised—but he didn't care anymore. Bruce could see. He saw everything, anyway.

"Good boy," Bruce told him softly.

Jason was shaking. The toy was still buzzing, buzzing, buzzing until it was everywhere, and he didn't know if he liked or hated it. He'd just come, was only half-hard against the sheet, but still he was twitching, so aroused he didn't know what to do with himself. 

"B—" he tried to say, but words wouldn't come, his mind too hazy and his jaw still in Bruce's firm grip. 

Bruce's eyes were burning. "We're not done," he said, and Jason didn't know if it was a threat or a promise. 

Moments like this, it was easy to believe that maybe, just maybe, Bruce was just as hungry for Jason as Jason was for him. 

* * *

"So we are all in agreement that we should increase agility in our development projects?" Bruce asked. 

There was an answering hum of agreement that Jason used to give a small moan of his own, just to tease. 

Bruce's hand came down and tapped his shoulder. A warning. Jason settled back down. 

"Alright. The next point on our agenda concerns expanding our testing capabilities. Cora, I believe you have prepared a presentation?" 

"Yes, Mr. Wayne. Let me just pull it up on the beamer…" 

"Excellent. Please proceed." 

Bruce's cock started to pulse, twitching in Jason's mouth, and Jason knew what to do: He pulled back just the slightest bit, just enough so that he could taste Bruce, tonguing the head as he spurted into his mouth. 

He would never get tired of the taste. Never. 

The presentation continued. "The second possible solution is to create a department that is solely responsible for technical, requirement, and UX testing. You can find the proposed structure on page seventeen…" 

Gradually, Bruce softened in Jason's mouth. Jason reluctantly stopped the movements of his throat, of his tongue, knowing it would be too much for now. His job now was to keep Bruce in his mouth and keep his cock warm and wet until he decided that he wanted to use Jason again. 

Holding still didn't come easy. He had to keep his mouth relaxed and soft, his teeth covered, and that allowed the spit to gather. Jason could feel it drip down the side of his mouth, down his chin, but he knew he wasn't supposed to wipe it off. Couldn't, really, without rustling his clothes, attracting attention. 

"Thank you," Bruce told the presenter. "I'm very impressed with your work. Before we commence with the discussion, I propose we all take a minute or two to read through the governance guidelines for financial software again. Keep in mind that we are hoping to offer our product in the EU, as well, so we need to comply with their data protection standards." 

Oh, the bastard. That had to be on purpose. 

In the silence, Jason became humiliatingly aware of his own erection. How long had he been hard for? It felt like ages. His underwear was wet, stained with his pre-cum. 'Like a girl,' Bruce had once murmured, and Jason had come so hard—he couldn't think of that right now. 

He had to be good. To be silent. 

(He didn't _have_ to. They had signals for 'back off,' for 'I need out,' and Bruce would not hesitate to cancel this meeting and send everyone out the second Jason used them. That knowledge made it even better.) 

Still, they couldn't afford to get noticed. Hell, no one outside of their family even knew Bruce and Jason were _anything_ to each other. That disapproval had been bad enough. Of course Bruce wouldn't want anyone else to know, even apart from the kinky sex part. With the older man's intense need for privacy, it was a miracle he even allowed Jason this much. 

Jason focused again on the cock in his mouth. Even soft, it was a nice warm weight on his tongue. 

Above Jason, the talks resumed. He tried to listen—corporate proceedings interested him very little, but it felt weird to sit in the middle of a discussion and not take it in—but all that he processed were bits and pieces, floating and out of his consciousness. 

"…is market access really that important to us…"

"…regulation is choking…" 

"There are ethical considerations." 

"…avoiding data leak scandals is directly beneficial for us… not to mention that…" 

Bruce started hardening again in his mouth. It hurt so much. Jason loved it. 

His mouth didn't react right away when he tried to pull back a bit, lavish more attention to it; he had to remind his muscles how to work and convince his nerves to send the right signals. Being able to tongue the head, play with the smooth skin again felt right even when his mouth was numb. 

However, Bruce's hand dropped down to his hair and stilled him. Too much movement. 

Still. Jason had to do _something_. He tentatively swallowed, hollowing his cheeks out just a little. 

At that, Bruce briefly stroked through his hair (no doubt messing it up even more) before withdrawing. Good. Jason was allowed to suck, then. He closed his eyes and settled down again, ready to give whatever Bruce wanted. 

"What do you think, Tharmiya?" Bruce asked. His voice was perfectly steady, as if he wasn't flushed and hot in Jason's mouth. 

A hesitant voice replied: "I think… the earlier we find a mistake, the cheaper it is to fix it. An investment will save us costs in the long run, increase security, avoid bad press, and increase customer satisfaction. What, exactly, is the argument against this?" 

"Very well put." Bruce's voice sounded warm. Jason focused on that, tried to pretend it was for him. "Carola, maybe you could prepare a one-page summary of the business case for our board? I will bring up the point at our next meeting." 

There was shuffling. Papers being stuffed into folders. "Thank you for your attention," Bruce said. That seemed to be the cue for everyone to get up. 

Knowing the end was so close almost made it worse. Jason wanted to get off so, so badly, but he couldn't. If he did, he would moan, he just knew it—he'd never been silent in his life, not even with his mouth stuffed full. 

"Are you alright, Mr. Wayne?" someone asked. "It's lunchtime." 

"Yes, yes." Bruce sounded dismissive. "I'll just go through my notes. Please tell my secretary that I don't want to be disturbed." 

And then, finally, blessedly, the other participants filed out of the room. If any of them thought it weird that Bruce didn't get up to shake their hands like he usually did, they didn't voice it. 

Frankly, Jason couldn't care less. All he knew was that Bruce moved his chair back and spread his legs further, forcing Jason to shuffle after him to keep his cock in his mouth. 

All Bruce did, at first, was sit and stare. Jason fought to keep his own eyes open at the weight of it. 

Finally, Bruce seemed to come to a decision. He cupped Jason's jaw, thumb stroking behind his ear, and stretched out a leg so it was right between Jason's. 

"Why don't you rub off on me, sweetheart?" Bruce asked, voice gentle and concerned and totally incongruous with the businessman who had Jason on his knees for him during a meeting. 

Jason didn't think; he just pushed his hips forward. His dick was still trapped in his jeans, and it hurt almost as much as it felt good, but damn, did it feel good. 

His teenage self would've loved this, he thought distantly. 

"You loved that. Everyone could've heard you, and you still wanted it; want it. Look at you, you're so close." Bruce's voice could've been dismissive; instead, it was close to awe. "What if I pulled back and came on your face? Would you like that, too?"

Of course Jason would. What a stupid question. 

"Yes, you would," Bruce agreed. "God, Jay, you don't even know what you do to me. It was all I could think about, how I wouldn't clean you up after." 

And that. That was—

"I would show you off," Bruce was saying, and Jason tried to listen because this was important—he couldn't believe— "Walk out of here with you on my arm—you'd be barely able to walk, right, stiff and aching, my cum smeared across your face… and everyone would know you are _mine_." 

Jason's mind felt hazy, the kind of relaxation he only ever got with Bruce, the freedom to not make choices, to just be. It was a struggle to surface enough to pull back, convince his jaw to cooperate, his mouth to let go of its treat. When he told Bruce, "yes," his voice was barely more than a croak. 

It was all worth it for the look on Bruce's face. 

"Jason, you—are you sure?" There was something fierce on his face. Something desperate. "You have to be sure."

"Yes." There was no question, couldn't be any question about that. Jason wanted to be Bruce's as wholly as he was allowed to be. 

Bruce's hand closed around his cock, jerking quickly, and Jason wanted it back in his mouth, but even more than that, he wanted this, wanted what it meant, and so he closed his eyes as the first warm spurts hit his face, helpless, helpless, helpless. 

Bruce's hands cradled his face, pulling at his jaw until Jason had no choice but to lean up, pressing himself against Bruce as he was kissed to an inch of his life. Bruce's tongue was in his mouth, tasting himself, and one hand moved down to press against Jason's cock (so good so good so good) and _anyone could see,_ they were at work, the blinds were still up, Bruce was kissing him in front of everyone—

Jason whined into Bruce's mouth as he spilled into his pants, and Bruce swallowed every noise, greedy until the end. 

* * *

Red suited Jason, Bruce had to admit. The dark silk made a beautiful contrast to the pale skin of his wrists and complimented the darker shades of his arms. 

Neither of them had wanted ropes; it was too close to their other lives. Red Hood and Batman had no space here, not anymore. Bruce focused, making sure the bindings weren't too tight, that Jason would be able to give his non-verbal signals and hold the small bell without straining his wrists. They tried it out several times before he was satisfied. 

Jason's ankles followed. Bruce was pleased to see that he had correctly estimated the spreader bar measurements. It was a special construction, welded to the chair Jason was sitting on, and it forced his legs open just enough for access without straining his hips. 

When Jason was secure, Bruce showed him his gift. "I want to gag you with this." 

He watched Jason take the toy in. Bruce had had it custom made; most gags didn't have the level of detailed Jason required. His boy liked to have something to occupy his tongue with. So it was a hyper-realistic reproduction of Bruce's dick, only downsized to fit better and with some ridges added for fun. 

The color, of course, was black. As a final bit of self-indulgence, Bruce had carved the bat symbol into the outside himself. 

_Mine_ , the toy said, and Bruce hoped that Jason heard it. 

He remembered Jason leaning against him when they had finally walked out of his office on that day. How his face was clean, of course—Bruce had sacrificed his own handkerchief for that, gentle wipes on heated skin—but flushed, even more deeply so when everyone stared. 

Bruce had merely smiled and kissed his cheek, then. Introduced him as his boyfriend, who was coming in for a surprise visit, and sorry, Cheryl, but could you reschedule all my appointments for today? Thank you. 

However, at that moment, Bruce had decided that a) he wouldn't let another opportunity pass him by to show Jason off, to claim him, and b) they would have a day where all the focus was on Jason, even if he had to tie the younger man up for that. Today was that day. 

"Yes." Jason said the word as if he'd never told Bruce no. 

The gag clicked into place, and Bruce watched as the change came over Jason. His shoulders relaxed, his weight shifted deeper into the chair, and if Bruce were to walk around him, he would surely see his hands hanging limply in their ties, barely hanging on to the bell. 

His boy had an oral fixation a mile wide. It was such a gift—give him something to play with, to suck on, and Jason would go pliant, relaxed like he never was otherwise. 

Bruce intended to take full advantage of that. He moved behind Jason and told him: "Watch." 

Jason tilted his head up—it looked like it took some effort—and fixed his eyes on the mirror. 

For minutes or hours, Bruce couldn't say, he allowed himself to just stroke over Jason's skin; feel the scars, the softness and the abrasions, the muscles and the flesh and the bones, everything that made his lover. Bruce wanted to know everything about him. 

Jason allowed it. Bruce knew this was difficult for him: Jason preferred having a task, orders to follow, a duty to fulfill. He wanted to be good, Bruce thought, but actively work toward that. Sitting here, restrained, and letting himself be touched… that came less easily than a blowjob in a public place. 

Bruce decided to reward this patience and reached down. His fist was almost big enough to envelop Jason's cock completely, an image that never failed to turn on either of them. 

"Good," he murmured into Jason's ear. The word seemed to have an electric effect on his lover; Bruce tried not to think about why. "Keep watching." 

He jerked him off slowly, paying plenty of his attention to his balls and the sensitive insides of his thighs. It didn't take long for Jason's stomach muscles to tense and his moans take on a more urgent quality. 

"Come, sweetheart. I want you to." 

With a soft groan, Jason began to spill over his fingers. They both watched intently. Instead of bringing his hand to his mouth, as was his first instinct, Bruce allowed Jason's cum to spread over Jason's cock with his movements. He would need the lubrication.

Bruce only let go when Jason's shudders had died down. Two steps and he was standing in front of Jason again. 

For a moment, Jason blinked up at him, and Bruce had to squeeze the base of his cock at the look in these gorgeous green eyes. Jason's gaze was hazy and confused, his eyes half-lidded with pleasure and so, so much trust. 

Bruce would never deserve this. 

"Good?" he asked gently. 

Jason nodded, boneless with pleasure. Bruce rewarded him with a kiss on his forehead. Then he reached down and gently fisted Jason's cock again. 

"Mmh—uh!" 

Jason shook and tried to move his hips away, only to press back into Bruce's hand in the next second. It was too much, Bruce knew. Every inch of Jason's skin was still sensitive, too close to his orgasm to be ready for any kind of input. 

Good. That was exactly what Bruce wanted. 

He let go, and Jason made a sound like relief, but it was short-lived. Bruce was moving again, kneeling in the open space between Jason's thighs. The hard muscles were bunched up with tension, and he couldn't resist biting down, that ugly possessive feeling inside of him never satisfied until he left a mark. 

Jason shuddered and settled back down in the chair. 

Bruce moved slowly, his mouth tracing a bath from the fresh bite mark to the V between Jason's thighs. That soft skin deserved a mark of its own, and Jason sighed when Bruce left it. The noise turned more urgent when Bruce turned his head to the side and pressed a kiss to the side of Jason's cock. 

His skin was hot under Bruce's mouth. Pulsing. 

"Look at yourself," Bruce told Jason without pulling back, letting his words ghost across the sensitive skin. "See how beautiful you are?" 

"Mmh—mmh!" Jason's voice grew frantic, loud even behind the gag, when Bruce didn't wait for him to react, just reached down to suck his cock into his mouth again, jerking off what he couldn't reach with his fist. His other hand gently cradled Jason's balls. 

High, frantic _uh, uh, uh_ noises came from behind the gag, and Bruce permitted himself to conclude that Jason was trying to say his name. It was all the warning he got before Jason began to pulse in his mouth, warm cum dripping from his cock again. 

Bruce swallowed it down easily—he did have some practice with this, no matter what Jason chose to believe—and gentled his movements, but kept going, until he could be sure that Jason wouldn't go soft, wouldn't think he was done with him. Only then did he lean back on his heels to look at his boy. 

Jason was _wrecked_. The flush on his face had spread down to his heaving chest and up to his ears; his hair was sweaty, his skin covered in a light sheen, and the look in his eyes… he looked both far away and more present than Bruce had ever seen him. 

His throat's movement was unsteady; Bruce would bet that he wasn't even aware that he was still sucking on the toy. 

Bruce knew with terrible clarity that he would never have enough of him. He loved Jason so totally and completely. He just was awful at showing it, unlike Jason. Jason, who tried to take care of Bruce and kissed him in front of others even when they must look ridiculous. Jason, who grew into the man Bruce loved despite Bruce doing his best to stifle him; who destroyed any feeling of guilt with a glance from those blue eyes; who looked at Bruce and tore down his walls and who looked so, so pretty like this. 

He gave Jason a minute to recuperate, soothingly stroking his hips, his thighs… and then he gave the most gentle of sucks. 

If he hadn't been restrained, Jason would've arched off the chair. He almost screamed, or would've without the gag, Bruce didn't know. Bruce kept his movements small and gentle, just little sucking motions, gentle movements of his tongue. Everything had to be heightened for Jason now; every swipe of his tongue the sweetest torture, every time Bruce swallowed the best kind of hell. 

And he kept going. 

Bruce knew Jason was crying, pleading behind the gag for it to stop, but Jason's feet stayed firmly on the ground, and he never dropped the bell. 

Oh, his boy was so good for him. What had he ever done to deserve this? 

This time, Jason barely had anything left to give to Bruce when he came. Bruce still sucked with gusto, enjoying every weak spurt as evidence that his lover was feeling good. 

This time, he pulled away as soon as Jason was done. It was instinct to cradle Jason's head, pull him into a hug even if it looked ridiculous with Bruce bending down so they were at a height. Jason needed that closeness once they were done, or shame would come rushing in. 

He took utmost care when opening the gag with his left hand, knowing that Jason's mouth must be numb. 

"Bruce," was the first thing Jason said, and Bruce kissed him for it. Jason tried to kiss back, but his movements were clumsy, his mouth ripe for plundering. 

"Yes, sweetheart?" he asked. 

"I need you to—please. Fuck my mouth." 

"Jay—" 

Jason honest-to-god whined. 

Silently, Bruce debated himself. They were done. Jason was done. He had been bound for over an hour, now, which was more than Bruce had estimated could be safely done. All Bruce had planned to do for himself was jerk off. It wouldn't need much. 

On the other hand… He had promised himself Jason should never have to beg again (even if Bruce loved hearing him _ask_ ) because Bruce wanted to give him everything. 

"On the bed," he compromised. 

First, he undid the bindings. Bruce would not rush this, not for the pleading noises Jason made, not for the pulse of his own cock. He had to almost carry Jason to the bed after; he was that boneless with pleasure. 

Jason went down pliantly, letting Bruce arrange him so he was laying on his back, head tilted down beyond the edge of the mattress. "Bruce—"was all he said, but it was enough for the older man to hastily push down his underwear and finally, finally feed Jason his cock. 

It was the most clichéd metaphor used in the most obscene context, but it felt like coming home. 

Jason's eyes fluttered closed. His moan sounded nothing but pleased. 

So they still ended up here, Bruce thought a little wildly, with his cock down Jason's throat. His throat looked obscene —all long and elegant and very obviously filled. He was making these little choking noises that felt amazing— _Jason_ was amazing. 

This wouldn't take long at all. 

Bruce groaned: "So good, my good boy, sweetheart, oh," and allowed himself to thrust forward. Jason was heavy enough that he wouldn't dislodge him easily. Already, Bruce could feel his balls draw up, the tension in his stomach blooming until it all exploded outward and he was coming, deep down the throat of this lovely, impossible man. 

And incredibly, unbelievably, Jason spasmed, too. It took Bruce a moment to regain his faculties enough to realize what was happening; he watched in awe as Jason shook through a dry orgasm. It sounded like it hurt, like it was the best thing to ever happen to Jason—like Bruce owned him so thoroughly that Jason would give him this, too, without thinking twice about it. 

When Bruce pulled away, Jason made a small, hurt sound. At that moment, Bruce could've sworn he was as fast as the Flash because it seemed to be less than a second before he was on the bed, too, pulling Jason on top of him. 

He tucked Jason against his chest, let his lover hide his face in his shoulder, and just held him close. Like this, Bruce could pretend that he had never failed Jason, had never lost him. He could whisper promises of protection into his hair, of love, of safety, and Jason would believe them. 

By now, after sex wasn't the only time they allowed themselves closeness like this. Bruce was unspeakably grateful for that. Jason's closeness after patrol, his comfort after a nasty fight or his joy an exhilarating arrest; hell, Jason's casual hug on a perfectly ordinary morning—Bruce wouldn't miss it for the world. Losing it would destroy him. 

Still, there was something special about moments like these. Jason was rarely as relaxed as when they had played, and neither, Bruce acknowledged, was he. 

So he pulled Jason impossibly closer, whispering praise into his hair, and sent a prayer to a long-forgotten god: _Mine._

_Please. Let him be mine._


End file.
